I'm chronically frustrated. I created two visions of art. The first vision, on the top half of the paper - was like pretty shiny happy neon things. Like stuff that looks pretty and stuff that most people would enjoy. Like the 'cute' side of life.

On the bottom half I drew more creepy/realistic things. You know, stuff intended to get a visceral reaction out of your body like a ghetto street-smart california sociopath saying cutting things in the alleyway on your way to the hit event. So yeah the real world has both of these realities mingling together in complex nuanced ways (that create a feeling of awkwardness for everybody involved), intellectually I know that.

But it bothered me because I was trying to make some sort of value perception on that. I wanted to believe the real/creepy was intrinsically better just because... it got under my skin. But it also felt like there was no love in the world anymore, and I said to the top half. well yeah it's really shiny/sparkly... but isn't it just an illusion? Like that really cool hot guy everybody likes to look at, but when people turn away - doesn't he vanish? And the creepy continues to stay. But something about that didn't feel quite right either. 'Cause I felt the same thing could be said about the creepy crap as well.

I wanted to believe that the creepy man was always right and then I realized that this was probably when Mark Linkous, the artist of the band Sparkle Horse... killed himself. So I stopped the insanity before I gaslighted myself into oblivion and became suicidal for real. Artists always like, ride this balance maaaan.

I need to get laid.